


Came Here To Forget

by titasjournal



Category: Harrison Ford - Fandom, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars RPF, carrie fisher - Fandom, carrison - Fandom
Genre: Kind of angsty, and kind of hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 03:37:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10822941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titasjournal/pseuds/titasjournal
Summary: Carrie finds Harrison at North Star bar and the share their demons with each other. And then they help each other to forget.





	Came Here To Forget

Carrie finds him hunched over at the North Star’s counter, a glass of vodka on the rocks in hand and a bowl of peanuts in front of him. The bar is dimly lit, the only source of lighting coming from the flickering on-again yellow lightbulbs, and she watches him raise his head as she places a tentative hand on his back. He’s scolding hot, his shirt damp from sweat. 

“You okay?” 

“What’s it to you?” his voice is low and sharp, so much so that it stabs her right in the gut. 

“Gee, woke up on the wrong side of the bed, Harrison?” she tries to reestablish some ease, her tone light and playful. She forces a smile, so as to add some credibility to the act, and slumps down on the stool next to his. 

He mumbles a meaningless sorry while he cracks open a peanut and flicks it into his mouth. While he swallows it, her gaze darts immediately towards his neck, his pursed lips, his tired eyes. 

“What are you doin’ here?” she asks, propping herself on top of the stool, bending over the counter, removing a glass and the bottle of vodka from behind it. She winks at the bartender when she notices his gaze, just old Carrie and Harrison on a Friday night. 

“I’m just here.” he shifts ever so slightly towards her, admiring her work on the drink. She starts by opening the bottle and pouring the clear liquid, proceeding to putting salt on the rim of the glass and, finally, taking a sip. 

“Now, I don’t believe it for even a second,” he rolls his eyes and she ignores him. “What did you come here to do?” her question is as far from innocent as it can get.   
“To forget,” he motions towards the bottle and she hands it to him. “My wife, you know Mary,” she nods, inciting him to continue. “she called me.” He takes another sip and the vodka burns in his throat. 

“And…” she brings the glass to her lips and now it feels more like a game than anything, the two of them stealing sips like you’d steal glances across the room. 

“I missed her, I missed home, I miss the kids.” He blurts it out without thinking first. “But she started goin’ off about how the money isn’t coming in fast enough and how lettin’ me do this movie wasn’t a good idea,” a shaking hand breaks through his thick hair and goes back to resting on the clear, cool glass. “Like I wouldn’t do it if she said I couldn’t.” he says this with a somewhat angry and venomous tone, that feeling you get when you’ve been holding a grudge for far too long. 

“Oh hey, maybe she’s stressed because of the kids?” Carrie can’t believe she has to defend her. 

“Maybe.” He manages to mutter through his closed lips, not sounding convincing at all, more so like he wants to be left alone and drown his sorrows. 

But then, he does something she’d never expect him to do. He asks her: “Why are you here?” 

And she, all too quickly, shoots back: “Same as you, I guess. To forget for a while.” His furrowed brow softens and she straightens her back. She’s winning him over slowly but surely. 

He doesn’t incite her to continue, it would be too big of a stretch for him, but she does nonetheless: “I’m hiding from Vader.” She winks flirtatiously and licks the salt from her lips.

“Oh yeah?” this time, he turns fully around and both their knees are touching. A side grin graces his face, which only inflames more her confidence. 

“Yeah. You weren’t the only one getting a call tonight.” Excited to force another one of those charming smiles from his face, she continues the only way she knows how: “Ya know my mother, right?” he nods, of course he does. “Miss Debbie Reynolds discovered today that her second husband’s hairdresser was, in fact,” she gestures with her hands for a bigger effect. “his pimp! How crazy is that?” her giggle echoes throughout the entire bar, but he doesn’t flinch.

“His pimp?” he’s usual disinterested demeanor is down a notch with that.

“Oh yeah, you know, that guy that brings in the hookers.” Harrison tries hard not to burst out laughing at her carelessness. “Welcome to my family, I guess.” He snorts and then takes a shot straight from the bottle. 

“Ouch.” He winces. Nodding, she tilts the glass in his direction: “Cheers.” 

The first time he met her on set, he couldn’t possibly resist making a joke about her impressively small height. Her pink lip gloss clearly established her young age and seemingly naïve behavior, though she was pretty enough. He was first intrigued by how untroubled she seemed when she dropped bombs at dinners or get-togethers about her family’s shocking life and how easily she appeared to be able to divulge them to virtual strangers. He desperately wanted to ask her how she was feeling: was she hurting (she had to be) or was this another night for her? 

Her eyes give it away, though. She doesn’t have to say a word. 

He fixes himself another glass without anything better to do. The atmosphere feels heavy again. Then, she speaks up: “You salt that rim like you’re getting even with someone.” He furrows his brow and hands her his glass. 

“Go on, taste it.” She does. Her head is buzzing like the flaming bulbs on the ceiling.

“Not bad, Ford.” His cocky grin makes her insides quiver. “I have an offer.” She shakes her head and places both her hands on his shoulders.

“Go ahead.” He brings his face closer to hers, the alcoholic atmosphere between the two too thick to cut through. 

“How about,” their noses brush. “we help each other forget?” 

And before she can even register what’s happening, his lips are already on hers, burning and demanding, just like she remembered them. He kisses the way he acts: rough dark depths, and she’s enjoying every second of it. She lets him take control, his hand grabbing her face curiously, finding her scalding cheeks and her sweaty locks. Misery is their company, that’s why it’s both of them giving each other drinks at the bar as thick as thieves.

\- Dragging her onto his lap, he buries the one hand into the waves of her hair, his other sliding along the outside of her thigh. Her dress rides up as she licks into his mouth, trying her best to make the best of the worst of it. 

He moans into her mouth as he lets out: “You’re gettin’ me crazy here, kid.” Which, naturally, makes her ache for even more closeness. His heartbeat against her chest feels like the strumming of a guitar to her favorite song. No, not her favorite song. That one that you know the lyrics by heart but never really paid attention to them. 

“Harrison,” she breathes “Come back to my place.” Both of them slide their mouths on each other’s, falling in love just enough to get them through what they’re getting though. He hisses at her not to move as he drops a couple of pounds on the counter and lifts her off of his lap.

“Quickly.” He whispers in her sweltering ear, licking her earlobe. 

She runs towards the door, paying little to no attention to the people they left behind. The cool air of the night strikes her heavily and he spreads his big, warm hands on her arms. 

She falls backwards, against his drumming chest: “Bet you can’t even remember what you came here to forget.”


End file.
